


Adagio Love

by giwp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Anxiety, JeanMarco Gift Exchange, JeanMarco Secret Santa, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:10:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8992912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giwp/pseuds/giwp
Summary: Prompt: Jean is happy to be granted a new start at this theater that just is about to open with young people and refreshing ideas. He tries to get along as well as possible with everyone and, after a rough start everything goes smooth for him and the rest of the cast. That is, until the premiere nears, anxiety kicks in and Jean is told to go and see the guy who will create his costume and oh my, it is really hard not to blush while being measured.JeanMarco Gift Exchange





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefeelingillforget](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefeelingillforget/gifts).



> First of all I just wanna say god bless you for allowing me to use my dance terms and experience into a jeanmarco fic because this is a long time coming. I hope you like the title because I am all about that slow burn, baby. You’ve given me an AU that can call for so much more to build on but I hope you like the few that I’ve went with writing. Very little of this was reviewed or edited so like........sorry for the mistakes

It’d been a rough year since that last performance night.

Days spent finding the nerves to approach the people he once considered his second family. Hours after closing night of their small show hoping to persuade and convince _someone_ to let him continue with what he loves in a place that had kept him sane and warm inside.

The Garrison was a place that – once you got over its deceiving name, he considered a home away from home. A home that dealt with the art of dance and had taught him a lot. A home that had made a name and reputation as one of the best and toughest and also crookedest companies to accept new members on a five-year basis.

When Jean had left home after high school, he’d left with big dreams to become the greatest dancer to ever cross the stage. He had hopes and aspirations as a young eighteen year-old to get as high as possible and at with young age he at times did in fact lack the social graces of doing so.

Eighteen year-old Jean was an ass, to say the least, and now two years later he could admit that.

His cocky attitude from junior ballet classes had followed him out into the real world as soon as the news that his first audition had gotten him into the contending rounds at The Garrison studios. An audition he’d waited years to attend and would wait another five for.

He had showed a bit of his arrogance that exuded confidence and a sense of maturity to the blind eye but the ideas in his head couldn’t have been any more different once final cuts had gotten around.

Jean had made the cut. And with his name on the roster of students and performers for The Legion came a sense of wariness for the other members.

Jean could feel it as well. As though he were looking at himself through a filtered lens that would not allow him to change his actions.

He watched himself throwing snide remarks at people that were undeserving of such treatment. He watched the minor hissy fits he insisted on throwing when his partners – especially Marlow – couldn’t pull together their weight to complete a lift.

He sat by and digested the words said about him from around hallway corridors as the veins in his arm started to itch.

The Garrison had left a deep settled itch inside Jean and when the final night had ended it’d had seemed to crash all around him.

The letter of expulsion from the company had left Jean feeling as though all blood and life had drained from his body. He spent weeks trying to gain acceptance from the people that always turned their shoulders away.

It left him exhausted and wanting to satiate the growing itch in his system to find his place back on stage. A place to call a home again.

And it’s with those thoughts in mind that he finally caves to his roommate Eren’s insistence to walk into the open audition night for some new company that Eren had been raving about since he’d heard the news of Jean’s demise a year ago.

He’d kept himself in shape over the year since stepping onto the stage for The Garrison; attending dance classes at the community centers in the city and master classes at the local university and community colleges. He kept himself fit enough to someday – maybe – take to the stage again. But he’d kept his hopes low and relatively lame as months went by and Jean got closer to his twentieth birthday and his spot on the living room couch deepened further into the couch springs.

Jean felt ready as he walked onto the theater stage following behind Eren.

Ready to take a nap if anything as he watched Eren run over to one of his friends.

It wasn’t that the groups of people around him were anything but enthusiastic to be there. There was energy filling the room as more and more people came in through the side stages. Everyone was in a stage of stretching out their bodies as they chatted with friends and acquaintances. The few staggered around the room with no one to speak to held stretches as they stretched out their battement and worked their legs in plie.

Jean could feel the energy trying to seep into his body; it trying to force itself in to calm the itching and relax Jean into fully stretching out his legs.

And he was trying his best. He tried to soak in as much fluid motion into his body as the day went on and pieces were set and cuts her made.

The day felt like a rollercoaster as with each performance of a piece, Jean would feel that excitement really set into the muscles of his legs and the tension in his arms would be just enough to seem natural and strong and not highly intense to scare off the younger auditioners.

But in the back of his head he could tell that the second he’d walk off the stage or be told to sit in the seats of the audience to await the next round of cuts that that energy would make its way out of his fingertips and out of his body.

It was becoming frustrating and it was only the looks of distress and anger from Eren that kept Jean trying to work his best and making the best impression. He tried to pull that determination and cocky attitude back from when he was eighteen and first-time auditioning for a proper group but the act seemed insincere and felt like he was pulling teeth and forcing the process.

Which is why it was all the more surprising the next day when he’d received an email with a thorough breakdown of “seeing the potential” and “hoping to guide Jean to something amazing” that had the blond sitting rigid on his bed on a cold winter morning.

The sound of feet thumping through the apartment doesn’t even register to Jean’s ears but the sudden thud of his bedroom door hitting the opposite wall jars him out of his head.

He looks up at Eren with vacant eyes and watches the grin on Eren’s face grow wider as Jean’s eyebrows slowly rise up into his sleep-mussed bangs.

“Did you get the email?!” Eren practically yells into their otherwise quiet apartment.

Jeans opens his mouth to say something – let Eren know that yeah he’s looking at it right now dumbass – but no sound escapes his lips as he glances down at his laptop and back up at Eren.

“Jean!!”

Jean clears his throat with a small cough. His voice still holds the ten hours of sleep he’d just gotten as he slowly nods his head and replies quietly. “Yeah. I-I just got it.”

And it’s like a storm has set itself in Eren’s body and Jean has to duck out of the way and pull his laptop with him as Eren comes sprinting towards his bed. There’s yelling and a bit of angry hair pulling and Jean somehow gets the back of Eren’s shirt over the boy’s head but soon the two boys find themselves staring up at Jean’s bedroom ceiling on top of the bed sheets breathing like they’d just ran a marathon.

Jean’s mind wanders as his eyes trace the tiny fissures at the corners where the dated popcorn ceiling meets smooth, pale blue walls.

Eren’s voice is smooth and quiet under the weight of the air cycling through the room from the door open to their living room. “This’ll be good.”

Jean hums. “Hm.”

He feels Eren nod to himself and Jean chances a glance just as Eren shuts his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “It’ll be good for both of us.” He breathes out and stills for the moments as he rests his arms above his head.

Jean watches the way Eren’s eyes flutter behind his lids. The past year had been difficult for not only Jean and there were moments where he would forget that Eren was a person too. A person that had been dealt with a lot and had lost a lot more.

Jean bit his lower lip before turning away.

The pressure behind his eyes felt like it was building and he squeezed his eyes shut too for just the second before he looked back up and watched the circles form over her tired vision.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be great.”  
  


* * *

  


It’s amazing.

The first few days are spent acquainting the new cast and crew members of The Legion with the veterans and staff.

Everything is different from what Jean had experienced at The Garrison. The people were louder and more…friendly. The itch that Jean would feel the last few days at The Garrison had seemed to vanish. The worry of first appearances and first impressions didn’t matter with the members of the group.

The atmosphere altogether had felt more warming in just the first week than Jean had felt after a whole month at the age of eighteen.

There was also the fact that with such a large number of new members came a much bigger different way that The Legion operated.

As rehearsals began, hours were dedicated to studying, dissecting and analyzing the group dynamics and strengths. One of those days included the appearance of one of the main choreographers, Levi Ackerman during what should’ve been a quiet day for rehearsing basics and finding a flow.

“Well look at you little shits. Stretching out on the dusty floor when there’s a perfectly good ballet barres right behind the stage.”

Jean had looked up with confusion in his eyes and he swiveled around to look upstage from where he was sat with a couple of the other new performers – he thinks their names are Sasha and Connie – before his eyes catch onto Eren who has turned an interesting shade of red. His back is entirely rigid as his legs are pulled apart into a wide second but his hands seem to be completely flaccid as his mouth hangs slightly open.

Jean lifts an eyebrow in question as Eren catches Jean’s eye. Eren scowls back at him but turns back around to face Levi again when the much shorter man starts pacing towards the back of the room.

“You,” Levi points out to Jean and a pair of men sitting close to him. “Follow me. We’re bringing out the barres.

Jean chances a glance back at the other men, and with a shrug from the muscular blond, the three stand up to follow Levi to the back of the stage.

He tries not to pay attention to just how tall one of them is and how much scrawnier Jean feels walking next to the blond.

But as they pass by Eren and he hears a small snicker followed by a whispered “teeny Jeanie”, there’s absolutely little time to process and react before a foot is thrown out in front of Jean’s face and attaches itself to the front of Eren’s face.

The three men have all frozen at this point and a hush has taken over the stage and it takes Jean a glance back to make sure Levi isn’t still walking away to really understand that it really is the short instructor with a foot trying to lodge itself into Eren’s brain.

Jean’s eyebrows shoot up with Eren’s groans as Levi pushes a little harder down onto Eren’s face.

“Ya got something to say, brat?” Levi asks.

Eren tries for a mumble under the leather of Levi’s shoes but all that comes out is more heavy groans and incoherent words.

With a final push that looks as though it hadn’t used up any of Levi’s muscles, Eren goes flying back and into the floor with a thud. The sound of Eren humming as he tries to rub his nose back into normalcy is all they hear before Levi catches their attention again.

Jean’s back straightens as Levi turns to look around the people huddled around.

“Just because we’re new and not as ‘huge’ or ‘ _grand’_ as other companies out there, doesn’t mean I’m gonna be taking shit from you rugrats. This is still an learning institution and we’re all here to teach or be taught. And that includes you idiots, as well. Erwin will probably give you the entire spiel of how this’ll really work but basically, creatively everything can come through your ass and get put through the ringer until it’s a piece of artwork worthy enough to put our name on it. We won’t look at the worst of the garbage you lot have in those heads of yours, but it doesn’t mean you keep your ideas to yourself. You got something constructive to say? You say it. If you have some shit with someone that you need to squeeze out of your ass like the suicidal bastard over here, then get out of my studio. Do I make myself clear?”

A chorus of “yes, sirs” – and somewhere a tiny “yes, captain” – rings through the stage and out towards the seating.

“Good.” Levi doesn’t smile or smirk at the attention. Instead he turns back around and walks towards the back of the stage and Jean hurriedly shakes himself out of his stupor and follows behind him with a heavier sense of purpose and reassurance in his steps.

Yeah. This was gonna be good.

  


* * *

  


They’re a good couple of months into training when the announcement of the coming winter’s theme is whispered through the green rooms and studios.

There hadn’t been an “official” announcement yet, but the way excitement filled the air as if they were back at Day 1 felt promising. And Jean could feel the way his entire soul was eating it up.

After Eren’s little embarrassing moment – a black and blue bruise coloring his nose and rimming his eyes the next day to accompany it – it was like Jean’s chest had opened itself up to the change. The groups spread across the stage had somehow become an absolute mess as people merged together. People’s unassigned-assigned positions on stage during rehearsals were long forgotten as everyone mingled and wove themselves together.

Ideas were thrown out into the open under Levi’s gaze and there were days that Jean couldn’t help the way his eyes would tear up in the comfort of his dark bedroom while recapping the way his superiors seemed to _want_ to listen and adopt his ideas.

Welcoming ideas thrown with minimum thought was a refreshing change.

It’s a few days into the rumors and murmurs before Erwin and Levi make an appearance early into the group rehearsal.

Everyone quiets as the heels of Erwin’s dress shoes click against the scuffed Marley.

He glances down at the floors before letting out a deep chuckle. He turns to Levi and says, “Remind me later, Levi; we’re gonna have to get these floors redone a couple months before the opening night.”

There’s a squeal from the back of the stage and Jean looks back to throw an amused look at Sasha and sees that there are a number of people – people he’s never seen before all in varying outfits that are definitely not black rehearsal attire – lined across the opened backstage wall. There’s too many to make out their distinct faces but they have an air about them that aligns right alongside the dancers. All young and eager to hear what Erwin has to say.

Erwin’s words catch Jean’s attention again. “These next few months will be rough and intensive for some of you, but we all have high hopes and dreams to aspire to. Goal setting and personal planning for everybody should start immediately. We’re still deciding the final theme but Levi and I have already discussed who we think should be our focus during the instruction and rehearsal process.”

He looks across the stage – his eyes lingering on a few – and Jean feels his pulse race as he catches eyes with Erwin.

“Now that doesn’t mean everyone else should resign themselves to being a stand-in or dancing in the back. This is our first show as a reinstated studio and as we have all seen in the past half year, things change at the drop of a good idea. Catch our eye and we’ll be taking in more than new ideas for this show.”

A buzz of electric energy fills the stage. Jean can see Eren practically vibrating in his pants as he leans forward over his outstretched legs to grab onto his toes. The smile on Eren’s face is somehow reassuring to Jean. The bruises having faded almost completely away, there’s an innocence to Eren’s enthusiasm that after years of living with the guy Jean couldn’t help but feel the same.

It was like cohabitating with Eren had turned Jean into a sap for the simplest things. Feeling like a child for wanting something so bad that the hum of the old theater lights felt like it was settling into Jean’s bones.

And it’s with this spark in his veins and power behind his jetés and the poise of his line that makes the next hours-, days-, weeks pass by in flash.  

It’s that power and poise he wishes could stay a little bit longer as the date for opening night is announced and choreography is set and time winds down and hovers over the one month countdown.

That creeping feeling tries to find its way back into Jean’s head.

The fear of being rejected and thrown out the door is still vivid and strong in his memory and they come back to him now as he’s surrounded by a group of ballerinas. In the back of his mind he knows his role; he knows his place on stage and knows that he must play the role of the strong man and he knows he has to be that strong man with steady hands and a solid base to complete the few lifts he’s been choreographed into.

But the twitch of his fingers say otherwise. The way he feels an ache in the balls of his feet make him feel lopsided. And the way his nails somehow manage to catch onto one of the girl’s shirts before he can even start a move keeps him from feeling like he’s completed anything in the past week.

It feels like he’s at an impasse.

A double-edged roadblock that has him listening to the blood flow through his ears rather than the show music playing through the theater speakers and wishing he could push himself back into a more calming atmosphere.

He recognizes that one of the dancers is talking to him about something that sounds important but he just can’t get himself to snap out of it and look up from where he’s stretched across the ground.

It isn’t until he feels a harsh smack across his head as he bends to fix the leggings riding up his calf that Jean feels himself being dragged back down to Earth.

“You ever gonna get out of that head of yours, Kirschstein?” Levi’s voice isn’t as loud or overpowering as it’d been that first – and second and third and every time after that – he had smacked Eren across the head, but it’s enough to push Jean onto his heels to look up at Levi.

“I’m sorry, sir. I-I’m trying my best.”

Levi snorts and smirks down at Jean as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Get your shit together, kid. Show’s in less than two months. Now get your ass in gear and head backstage. The stagehands are taking measurements and they wanna know how big to make the neckline so your head can fit through the outfits.”

Jean tries to keep his face straight and not scowl up at the shorter yet _much_ stronger man. He hears Eren’s distinct snort from somewhere close by and he waits until Levi’s already walking away before shooting Eren a death glare. It’s met with a cheesy smile and Jean lets him have his fun and makes his way away from the stage and towards the back of the hall.

The stage area had been arranged for the past month to accommodate the staff that’d been hired on to help create the props and costumes. The area was a complete mess but even the dancers could see there was an organization to everything that was happening. Seeing as most the cast were either new to the professional world or coming back from a break, a lot of buzz had been blowing about on how everything was going so well, so fast.

It was making everyone nervous for how the show was going to end up and Jean would always have to tell himself that yes, everyone was nervous and his own racing heart wasn’t too unusual as the backstage area grew more and more chaotic as more and more props and fabric rolls were brought in.

Jean tries to make his way to the line of clothing racks places in the middle of the floor.

It’s the most likely place to find the person that’ll be taking his measurements and seeing as no one else pays Jean’s presence any mind, it’s the place that he can only hope to find someone to help him.  

He stumbles over the metal racks a couple times trying to find someone that isn’t knee deep in fabric with fingers covered in bandages and tape from the dozens of sewing needles pricked into pin cushions on everyone’s wrists.

He stumbles around a little longer before he practically trips over a pile of clothes or something while turning a corner.

Jean curses as his knees bang against the harsh floor and his hands slam loudly against the cement to keep himself from completing a full face plant.

He thanks everything out there that Eren wasn’t there to see him fall but as he turns around to glare at the pile of inanimate objects he wishes with everything he has that what he finds is a pair of dark, chocolate eyes staring back at him in confusion.

Deep eyes bore into Jean’s face and he blushes for some reason when he sees amusement flood across the stranger’s face. He watches his cheeks squish up and Jean curses the spread of freckles splashed across them like a starry night painting because they end up making it really hard for Jean to see the tiny specks of green he finds in them.

They also make it hard for him to breathe, but that digresses a bit too far.

There’s a silent exchange between them as Jean watches the other man chuckle to himself and Jean keeps his face from overheating too much. With a deep breathe he breaks the otherwise silent atmosphere with a cough. “Ah- Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

The guy – mister freckles for all his glory – smiles back and with a tilt of his head that keeps Jean’s breathing scattered says, “That’s alright. Didn’t mean to look like a sack of clothes in this mess anyway. Especially when I knew someone would be back here looking for me.”

Jean’s frowns. “You were expecting someone?”

“Yup!” With a brush of his hands over his pants, Marco stands up and offers a hand down to Jean. He takes it and he feels how sturdy the other man feels as he helps pull up Jean to his feet. They steady each other and Jean doesn’t think about how their hands are still held together between their bodies. “And I think that person was you.”

Jean’s heart races for a second before he really looks at the other person. Their dressed like all the other sewers and such. Amazing and like they could design circles around your entire wardrobe. He’s also covered his arm in scrap pieces of fabric with different print and textures. He looks back up at Marco’s amused smile. “You’re the person that’s gonna be taking my measurements,” he says more than questions.

“That’s me.” He squeezes Jean’s hand. “I’m Marco Bodt.”

Jean tries not to look too flustered at the contact and not seem so disappointed when Marco retracts his hand. He looks back up into warm eyes that seem to mask the late autumn chill flowing through the building.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jean.”

“Well it’s good to finally meet the man of the hour.” Marco smiles again before turning around and reaching for a roll of measuring tape. “So you’re ready for this, I assume.”

Jean nods and shifts his posture to accommodate for Marco’s height and presence that flitters around his form.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Marco, by now, has noticed the way Jean’s breath hitches whenever Marco’s hand grazes across a collarbone or when he grips onto Jean’s fingertips while he turns to look at the sheet behind him for what to measure next.

It feels like a slow dance as the two of them stay closed off to the world, surrounded by rack on racks of clothing.

Jean leaning back and forth to the direction of Marco’s movements.

A tango for two accompanied by far too much glitter and gold for Jean’s personal taste.

But it’s also heady as he feels strong fingertips gripping and pulling back his shoulders and how me asks Jean to make sure he’s standing in a comfortable second position like he would on stage.

He asks for Jean to stand tall and when he does so it’s like he can feel the pressure along his neck release itself. He feels like he can take in more air than he has in weeks.

Marco’s hands ground him and make him feel like he could melt back into the Earth and come back without worry over his shoulders.

It feels good and he blinks for a few seconds when he sees Marco rolling back his measuring tape and hears him talking again.

“Everything looks great. I have a couple of ideas for your costume which I’m gonna have to run by Erwin before we get production on it really going. But it looks like they’re won’t be any worries about it.”

Jean nods his head slowly. He tries to smile but he feels a bit cold without the familiar feel of Marco’s fingers running down his arms.

Marco smiles at him with something that Jean can’t find a name to. Jean lets out a breath as Marco says his next words.

“This is going to be good, Jean.”

Jean smiles back as the warmth of the small space fills him again. The thrum returns to his bones and feels sincere as he looks up at Marco again. “It’s going to be amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like the tiny little thing I threw together and happy holidays!!
> 
>  
> 
> [follow me on tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


End file.
